


Nomenclature

by oaseas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bonding, Fluff, Hints that Shiro & Keith are long-time friends (or bros)., Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Pre-Slash, Silly boys get there in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oaseas/pseuds/oaseas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>nomenclature; </b><br/><i>noun</i><br/>'the term or terms applied to someone or something'</p><hr/><p>“It really … It really hurt, y’know?” Lance, still turned away, gazed out over the observation deck to the starlit space beyond. Keith ran his eyes over Lance’s face, cataloging the splashes of red sunburn. “I mean, I know we didn’t really talk, but I at least expected you to remember my face, if not my name.”</p><hr/><p><i>alternatively titled:</i> five times lance introduced himself and the one time he didn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nomenclature

**i**

Keith hated meeting people. It wasn’t that he thought himself better than them, but rather because so many strangers in one place always sent him reeling. He absolutely hated forced interaction. Yet here he was. Irony, he thought, unamused. Another person bumped into his right side, effectively stopping him from seeping into the background. They gave him no more than a passing glance and an insincere ‘sorry’ as they bustled past. Keith neglected to respond as he knew there was no real point. He sighed and dropped his head back against the wall. He couldn’t see Shiro anymore, and despite the amount of people crowded around he knew there were less than earlier. Well, he thought, if people are leaving, so am I.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Keith shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched towards the front of the room. His mouth twisted down further and further the more he was jostled into people. “Excuse me,” he muttered, giving in to shoving past them a little roughly. Where on Earth was Shiro? He had said he’d stick by Keith for moral support! Intellectually Keith knew Shiro had no need to be here as he wasn’t a first year, but still, it’d been nice to know there was someone he knew nearby. Of course, that relied on Shiro actually staying with him. 

Feeling more than a little annoyed with himself for relying on Shiro so much, Keith suddenly stopped in his tracks. This was ridiculous. He was well and truly capable of interacting with people on his own and he could make friends other than Shiro. So, straightening, he glanced around the densely packed room. It was ridiculously loud and Keith knew he wouldn’t be heard over the noise unless he shouted. Fortunately, he was roped into a conversation moments later by a particularly short kid. 

“I’m here to become an engineer. I’m not up for any of that piloting stuff. No way! Can you imagine how risky that’d be? You have the life of everyone in your hands! I’d rather just hide in the back of the ship,” the kid was saying. Keith felt his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You’d have to completely trust your pilot,” Keith interrupted, feeling bolstered by the odd stares the kid’s companions gave him. “It’s all well and good wanting to be an engineer, but wanting that just because you don’t want the responsibility that comes with being a pilot? What happens if your pilot is injured? Would you still refuse to shoulder the responsibility then?” Keith knew too late his mistake. He had never been good at reigning in his emotions. ‘Passion’, Shiro had called it, but Shiro wasn’t here, was he?

It wasn’t surprising the group migrated away from him shortly after. Keith couldn’t really bring himself to feel anything other than mildly irritated. Nearby people had begun to shoot him interested looks and Keith decided he’d had enough. Shoving through the crowd and out the door of the room, he finally relaxed. The corridor was blessedly bare and the air felt clean, empty. Keith visibly relaxed, tense shoulders lowering into a slouch. 

“Kinda noisy in there, isn’t it?” 

Keith glanced up at the guy leaning against the wall across from him. He was tall, with brown skin and dark hair. He was lanky and didn’t seem to know where to rest his arms. Keith was reminded of Shiro’s growth spurt when they were younger. He’d been running into doors for days. Keith shrugged, wondering why the newcomer was outside as well.

“I only ducked in to find Hunk, my best friend, but _dude,_ it was so loud and there were so many people I knew I didn’t stand a chance. I mean, I know a crowd - trust me. My family’s big, but that was something else. So I texted Hunk to come meet me -- “

Keith’s eyes widened and he knew he was staring. It didn’t deter the guy at all. In fact, it seemed to make him talk _more._ He really couldn’t care less about anything the guy was harping on about, particularly his accustoming to the Garrison rules and living away from his family. He opened his mouth to say ‘I don’t care’ but thought better of it, Shiro’s stern look floating through his mind.

“Who are you?” 

“Lance McClain,” Lance said, and his smile only doubled in size as it became downright boastful. “I’m going to be a pilot; the best you’ve ever seen!” Lance placed his hands on his hips, and winked. Keith didn’t pay his boasting much attention, too drained to really uphold a conversation. “They’re gonna call me the tailor, because of how I’ll thread the needle.”

“That’s nice,” Keith said, absently. He’d had an idea as to where Shiro was, and hey, he’d talked to at least two people, which meant he wouldn’t actually be lying to Shiro when he said as much. There was really no need to stick around. Pleased with his justification, he raised his hand and waved shortly. “Good luck,” he said, and left before Lance could respond. He had important things to do, like finding Shiro and berating him for leaving Keith alone in a room full of cowards. 

 

**ii**

It took less than five minutes for Lance to escape Keith’s mind. It took more than five months to meet him again. In the meantime he’d grown accustomed to red sand coating his skin; to a fine layer of dust over the box of Shiro’s possessions, (whatever he could manage to scavenge from the Garrison); to a sense of isolation and loneliness, and to the calling from the desert. Keith hadn’t known just what was out there, but late at night, sitting on the roof of his shack, he could hear it. He could feel the pulse of it as though it wished to guide him right towards its centre. It wasn’t until the ship crash landed that Keith knew something big was going to happen, if it hadn’t already.

Seeing Shiro was like something out of a dream. His torn clothes, the deep scar across his face, and his arm, _gone_ , metal replacing it. All of it spoke of some unimaginable horror. Keith’s breath had stuttered as he’d tilted Shiro’s face towards him, eyes taking in the deep lines of his face, the weariness Shiro held on to even in sleep. It took all he had not to punch something. After all, he’d already laid waste to most of the staff members. He’d nearly tripped over one he’d punched trying to get to Shiro in the first place. Hands fumbling over the lines of Shiro’s torso, he cut through the straps holding Shiro down and debated trying to wake him up. An explosion rattled the ground; Keith’s last timer had gone off. He had no time. He settled on slipping his arm around Shiro’s waist, tugging him upright. Shiro’s arm hung over Keith’s shoulders and the unconscious roll of Shiro’s head tossed Keith’s stomach uneasily. He needed to get him out of here. The distraction he’d caused would only serve them well for so long being this close to the Garrison. Besides, the sudden reappearance of a ‘dead ex-student’ was bound to cause drama. 

Unfortunately, Keith’s momentary panic had lead to the appearance of three students, the smallest being somewhat familiar. Keith was sure he’d seen at least one of them before, and the tall one had a familiar air about him. Said tall guy took a step towards him, frustration and badly concealed surprise dusting his face.

“No, nope, nope, nope, no, _nope,_ no, _no._ No you don’t. _I’m_ saving Shiro.” 

Keith watched, surprised to see him duck under Shiro’s other arm, tossing the deadweight over his shoulder. “Who are you?” He questioned, vaguely annoyed at the distraction. They couldn’t afford this waste of time, and this ‘rescue mission’ was going to quickly go downhill if a bunch of Garrison students were here to delay things.

“Who am _I?_ Uh, the name’s _Lance?_ ” The look Lance tossed Keith was expecting, almost as if he thought Keith would know who he was by the mere mention of his name. Keith blinked, unable to place the name or the face, yet knowing he’d seen him before. As he stayed silent, Lance started to wilt. “We were in the same class at the Garrison? I’m the guy who ‘threads the needle’?” Oh! _Oh_ , he was the kid! The … uh, the ...

“Were you the engineer?” They really didn’t have time for this, Keith thought, but he asked anyway. He could see the two other Garrison kids standing awkwardly by the door, the older one sending panicked looks behind him. 

“No, I’m a _pilot!_ ” Lance said, and he sounded just shy of pleading. Keith could tell he was meant to know who the guy was, but he really couldn’t place it at all. He stood, dumbfounded, with Shiro’s weight pressing down on him, as Lance continued in the same vein. “We’re like rivals, you know? Lance and Keith, neck and neck!” And suddenly, it clicked.

Keith took a step forward, causing Lance to stumble with him. They needed to leave. “I remember you,” he said, “you’re a cargo pilot.” Lance’s offended response about becoming fighter class due to Keith’s ‘washing out’ barely garnered anything other than an unamused, “Congratulations”. Had the situation been different, maybe Keith would have responded better, but Lance was annoying, much as he’d been that time in the hallway months ago, and they had to leave. _Now._

Minutes later they were speeding across the sand, Keith’s eyes squinted as he tried to shake off the remaining Garrison officers. He could hear Lance and Hunk yelling at each other, the smaller Pidge muttering about how much trouble they’d be in, but all he could do was grin. As Keith’s bike burst into the air, accompanied by the shrieks of his passengers, he felt the familiar weight of Shiro against his back. Keith was hit with the sudden sense that everything was changing, and he had no idea just how right he was.

 

**iii**

“Remember that time you all left me alone on a planet, tied to a tree, for over an hour?” Lance kicked his feet up onto the dining room table, his arms folded in a remarkable impression of a ten year old. Allura shot him a dangerous look and he winced, slipping his feet off onto the floor. Keith watched the happenings with an air of boredom, tracing a continuous circle on the table with his finger. It was unlikely any of them would forget the incredible fuck up Lance had caused, though, Keith thought, most of the team seemed to have forgiven him.

“Remember that time you lost the blue lion due to flirting?” Pidge countered, and Keith heard himself exhale a shaky laugh. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. Shiro kept giving him pleased looks whenever he caught Keith participating in ‘bonding activities’ or actively smiling. It was embarrassing, but it also felt nice knowing that they still had that bond. Besides, Keith would put up with any amount of teasing were it to mean keeping Shiro with him. He’d lost him once. He wouldn’t lose him again. 

Lance tossed his hands up, chucking Pidge a dirty look. He leaned forward in his seat, reaching for a bowl of discarded goop. As he began to eat, Hunk rose to collect the used bowls. “ _Anyway,_ what I’m saying is, that probably could have gone better if --” Lance paused, and put down the bowl. Meeting everyone’s eyes solemnly, he continued. “I’ll only say this once, so pay attention. It probably could have gone better if I … was better at hand to hand combat.” He collapsed backwards in his seat, almost as though a great weight had been heaved off his shoulders. Keith snorted.

“Yeah, no shit,” he said, and heard Shiro’s resigned ‘ _Keith’_. “I’ve seen you try and fight hand-to-hand,” Keith continued, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “It’s usually a mess. You clearly have no idea what you’re doing.” 

Predictably, Lance surged upwards. “Oh yeah? Well if you’re so good at close combat, why don’t you teach me, _huh?_ ” 

Keith gave him a bewildered look. What the -- Him, Keith Kogane, teach Lance how to fight? Yeah, he thought darkly, that’d go over well. He rallied his arguments, ready to retaliate and shoot Lance’s demand down, but it was Coran who spoke up before he could.

“Actually, that’s a good idea.” Coran tapped a finger on the table, turning to face Allura. They gazed at each other for a moment. Allura nodded, then looked vaguely nauseous and then grinned. Keith shivered. He had a bad feeling about just exactly _how_ it was a good idea, and suddenly knew he wanted to be anywhere but in this room. “Having the two of you spend some time together could really smooth your relationship over. And having an intimate knowledge of each other’s flaws and strengths could help in battles! Really, you should all spar together! Why, we could even do ‘ _ahkvveonra_ ’!” Keith had no idea what ‘ _ahkvveonra_ ’ was, and he honestly didn’t care to find out. He wondered if it was possible to eject himself out the ship without anyone noticing. 

Shiro’s brows furrowed as he leaned forward. “‘ _Ahkvveonra_ ’? What on Earth is that?” Keith noticed a distinguishable butchering of the word, and by the cringe on both Alteans’ faces, they had too. 

“It’s not ‘on Earth’,” Allura said. She spoke the word again, and Keith knew he would never be able to recreate it. “It’s an Altean game. It involves two teams or more made of two players each. Both players will have one arm joined together, so that they effectively are one body with four legs and three arms. It serves to create teamwork. You, the paladins, would have to learn to adapt your fighting technique to your partner’s, or create a new one! The object of the game is defeat all other teams.”

Lance snorted. “Sounds like an extreme version of the three-legged-race,” he said, and Pidge shoved their glasses up their nose, a sign that meant they were excited. Keith couldn’t relate. The idea of being tied to another paladin and sent out to fight other teams was … daunting.

“Of course, there are only five paladins, so it won’t quite work out into equal teams,” Coran continued. 

Keith sighed in relief. “Guess I’ll sit this one out,” he said, and tried his best to school his features into vague disappointment. It didn’t work, he knew. After all, Lance had chucked him a vaguely amused look. Keith’s cheeks warmed and he looked away. It would do no good to get distracted.

“Not quite,” Coran laughed. “I’ll be the referee, and Allura is more than willing to join in. Aren’t you?” 

Allura smiled, and despite its beauty Keith caught the dangerous glint in her eyes. “Shiro, you will pair with me. Lance and Keith, you will work together. Hunk and Pidge … Pidge, because of your height, we’ll adapt it so that the rope gives a little leeway between yourself and Hunk.” She rose from her chair, satisfied with her pairings. Patting at her skirt, she grinned. “Paladins, change, and meet in the training room as soon as possible.”

Keith slumped down in his seat and refused to meet Lance’s eyes. Even as they were later tied together in the training room, he said nothing, simply gritting his teeth as he felt the warmth of Lance’s arm seep into his skin. It was unpleasant being this closely tied to someone, and he could tell that the others felt the same way. Still, Keith knew he had no choice but to suck it up, and, as the game ‘began’, he decided he could do nothing but give it his all. 

“Left,” Lance yelped, trying to duck away from Pidge’s training sword. “Left, Keith, _left!_ ” 

Keith tried to move in an attempt to obey Lance, but the stupid idiot’s leg was stuck out so wide he tripped. Lance yelped and Keith cursed, as the two of them went pinwheeling backwards into a wall. “Lance!” Keith shouted, frustrated beyond all belief. Lance towered over him, bracketing Keith against the wall. “Move your legs out of the way. We need to work in tandem!”

“Big word,” Lance grunted, managing to pull the two of them upright. He steadied Keith as best he could. “I didn’t know you understood it.” Despite the bitchiness to his tone, Keith could see the clear frustration on Lance’s face. “And anyway, I told you to move left first, and you went right! Our legs mightn’t be stuck together, but our arms are, Keith! Tell me what you’re going to do! It’s a little thing called ‘communication’.” 

Keith rolled his eyes and elbowed Lance roughly. “I know what we have to do, idiot. What I don’t know is why I got paired with --” He cut off, violently tugging Lance to the right as Hunk leapt at them. “Sorry,” he gasped, watching Lance cry out. “Right, we’re going right. Let’s just, let’s just try and figure out moving together, ok?” 

Lance rubbed at his temple with his spare hand, handing his sword awkwardly to Keith. “Ok,” he conceded, taking a moment to rub at his bruised shoulder. “Ok.” Keith offered him his sword back and he took it, determination sinking into his eyes. “I’m Lance McClain,” he muttered under his breath, and Keith watched him from the corner of his eye, taking in the way Allura and Shiro were constantly giving each other directions. “And I’m Keith’s rival, sure, but I can put that aside for now, because I’m also a winner.” 

Keith watched with mild fascination as the mini pep-talk seemed to cheer Lance right up. “Alright,” Lance grinned, and the determined look in his blue eyes, the excited curve to his mouth, and the begins of peppered sweat across his brow caught Keith’s heart in his throat. “Let’s kick ass,” Lance said, and Keith was helpless to do anything other than grin. They mightn’t win, but they were certainly going to go down trying.

 

**iv**

The air was thick, almost cloying with the stench of blood and every breath burned his throat. Keith’s legs ached, the muscles in his thighs threatening to cease movement with every step. Still, he dragged himself down the corridor, barely upright. Sweat dripped from his brow. Keith struggled to keep his eyes open despite knowing closing them meant death. It was times like these that Keith felt he could almost hear Lance in his mind telling him to quit being such a drama queen. The thought tugged at his lips and made him want to laugh. Great, so he was losing so much blood he was going delirious. Wonderful.

From the neighbouring corridor came the sound of rapid footsteps and Keith rested himself against the wall, once more summoning his bayard. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew his chances of survival but there was no other way; he had to keep as many Galra in his wing of the ship in order to provide a necessary distraction. So, gritting his teeth and forcing himself completely upright, he crouched and, as the first Galra turned the corner, launched off.

“Hey,” he yelled as his bayard slipped through the hole in the side of the Galra’s armour. A guttural cry alerted the remaining Galra to their companion’s state shortly before Keith sprung at them. “Eat sword,” he bit out, breath already coming in short gasps. Back and forth he sprung, knocking away Galra after Galra and diving to avoid as many hits as possible. Of course, he was Keith Kogane, and rarely did the universe spare him from shitfests. It only took one moment of distraction, one second to pause and suck in a breath before Keith felt the blast impact with his midsection.

Keith’s bayard scattered, and the floor, slippery with spilt blood, met his knees. Keith sucked in a shaky breath and pressed a hand tightly against his middle. _Fuck,_ that was going to leave a bruise. If I make it out of here, anyway, he thought, hysterically. The remaining Galra were soon joined by dozens more and Keith felt a stab of pride. At least he would die knowing he could create one hell of a distraction.

Keith’s head drooped, his body feeling immeasurably heavy. As boots entered his vision, he could only spare one last thought, one last moment of hope that Pidge had managed to download all necessary files. The blade was cold against his throat as the Galra tilted his chin upwards. The knife cut into his skin and he could feel a swell of something that wasn’t sweat roll down his neck. He found he didn’t care. The harsh yellow eyes seared into his vision as the world started to go blurry.

“Clean-up in aisle three,” Lance yelled, pristine blue uniform a stark contrast to the red and purple lining the hall as he flashed past. Keith had never been more thankful to see the moron in his life. He even managed a wheezy giggle, his head violently shoved to the side as the Galra standing over him was promptly blasted a few feet backwards. She crumpled to a mess and did not rise again. “He shoots, he scores!” Lance cheered. “Close range shot! I hear those are painful.” He tossed a sharp grin at Keith, concern unhidden but confidence flooding his eyes.

Unwilling to remain in the centre of the corridor as Lance paraded around, systemically halting the Galra, Keith dragged himself towards the wall. Lance was a good shot, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t miss, Keith thought. He scooped up his bayard, collapsing near the first Galra’s body and waited. It didn’t take too long, all things considered. Lance’s uniform soon became tarnished with blood, dust and scrapes from weapons. It was clear he was somewhat out of his element in close combat, dancing away from the Galra in order to shoot at them. They’d have to work on that, Keith thought, watching as Lance’s gun smacked into the distant wall.

Lance stood, body heaving, wrist curled protectively against his side. He stooped, likely out of breath, but his eyes were sharp, and Keith knew the hit had hurt. Still, with one last remaining Galra in the corridor, Lance couldn’t afford to give up. Neither of them could. “Lance,” he called, and was startled to hear the rasp of his own voice. “Beside you.”

Lance tossed him a look, obviously not willing to take his eyes off the Galra in front of him. He chanced a glance downwards, eyes catching sight of a Galra knife and Keith knew he’d cottoned on. Lance stooped to collect it, attention slipping from the Galra. Keith’s breath caught. She bared her teeth, feline-like appearance caked in blood and leapt. Keith was vaguely aware of yelling something, though what, he had no idea. It caught Lance’s attention, however, and he fumbled to direct the knife towards the Galra. A sharp cry echoed through the hall.

“Who are you?” The Galra growled, blood dribbling over her bottom lip and slipping into the short fur of her chin.

“Lance McClain,” he said, and Keith could picture the grin on his face, barely hiding the fear in his eyes. “Blue paladin,” he continued in the silence. When there was seemingly no response, he pushed away from the Galra, stumbling backwards as she slumped to the floor lifelessly. Keith stared blankly at the corridor of blood and bodies and knew he would vomit sooner rather than later. Still, he couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat. Something in the way Lance had moved, in the agile twist and turns of his body, and his resounding ‘Lance McClain’ tainted with the unspoken ‘ _bitch_ ’ had caused his breath to catch in his throat.

Lance entered his vision. “Keith,” he said. “Holy shit, _Keith._ That was so fucking cool. Did you hear that? Hah! Who’s the newest James Bond on the block? That’s right, _me_. You wish you could be this awesome!”

Never mind, Keith thought. The awe of the moment was gone, Lance’s stupidity trampling it. He opened his mouth to say as much, aware of Lance’s hands on his arms. “Lance,” he managed, and then the world was tilting.

 

**v**

Ever since the mess which had been the last mission and Keith’s subsequent medical pod visit, team morale had been … low. Though they had collected all necessary data, Hunk had taken a nasty cut to the leg, Keith had nearly died, (and wasn’t that a confronting thought for everyone?) and the castle’s shields were near obliterated. Long overdue for a holiday, or at least a day or two of recuperation, Allura had charted coordinates to a distant sector, hoping they would have a few days before they were found and had to return to duties. So far, so good.

The heat of the sun reminded Keith of the corridor he’d collapsed in over a week ago and his side still ached with phantom pain. Still, it was nice to no longer be cooped up on the ship, even if where they had landed was the middle of the desert. Or what _appeared_ to be a desert. The sand was black, and Pidge had mentioned how it was likely due to volcanic activity, something which wasn’t reassuring in the slightest. It wasn’t even sand-like. Rather than being coarse, it was smooth and densely clumped. It reminded Keith of snow, in a way, and of his little shack on Earth. Lance didn’t seem to care about the sand, instead complaining about the lack of water. Keith turned his head towards his companions, tuning in to hear the tail end of Lance’s complaining.

“... And anyway, it’s too hot to build a snowman - a _sand_ man, if you will - Pidge, so your idea is stupid. No tanning unless you want to burn and no beach volleyball because of the lack of _trees_. And, _and_ , did I mention the lack of water yet?”

“Yes, Lance,” Pidge answered robotically, clearly fed up with Lance as they turned their attention elsewhere. “So if all you're going to do is complain I guess that gives me ample time to check out this sand, huh? Cool. I wonder what space volcanoes look like?” Seemingly cheered up by the thought already, Pidge wandered off a little distance from the group. They dropped to a crouch and began to poke at the sand as Lance watched on despairingly. 

“Children,” he mumbled sadly. “No sense of justice.” Keith’s mouth tugged up at the corner, amusement spreading across his face. It only amplified when Pidge, without even bothering to turn towards them, hollered, “I can still hear you, Lance.”

Lance’s spluttered answer, “Good! You were meant to!”, was too much and Keith ducked his head as to keep his grin hidden. He listened to the two of them bicker like kids for a while before the heat started to become uncomfortable. Keith tugged at his gloves, having already removed his jacket. His hair stuck to his nape and forehead and he found himself privately wishing they'd found a better planet to land on. 

When he returned from the safety of the ship’s shade, gloves gone and hair pulled up off the nape of his neck, Lance was staring. Passing it off as a Lance Thing, Keith ignored the quick, not-at-all subtle glances. It soon became more and more obvious and borderline irritating to feel Lance’s eyes on him. His cheeks burned under the attention, his pulse speeding up. Yet, before he could open his mouth, Hunk joined them. 

“Lance,” Hunk faux-whispered. “You know how there are sand dunes everywhere?” He sounded positively gleeful, brown eyes bright. “And you know how we found that stash of, uh …” Here, Hunk chucked Keith an almost nervous glance. “The, uh, _definitely_ already broken spare parts?” Keith wisely chose not to say too much, inwardly finding it hilarious to watch Lance and Hunk skate around the details. Eventually, however, Keith couldn't help himself. 

“We have a stash of _broken_ spare parts?” 

Hunk laughed awkwardly and a little too loudly. Lance elbowed him, attempting an innocent smile. Keith wasn't swayed in the slightest and he knew his expression betrayed him. Nevertheless, Hunk powered on. 

“A-Anyway! We have sand dunes and large, kind of flat slabs of metal. Y’know what that means?” Hunk’s eyebrows wiggled. He looked chuffed, way too excited about what he'd realised. 

“Wait -” Lance’s blue eyes widened. “You're not saying …” He cottoned on almost immediately. Keith was glad one of them knew what Hunk meant as he certainly did not. 

“Oh, I _am_.” Hunk’s grin did nothing but grow, but no matter how happy he looked, Keith did not trust that tone of voice. That was a clear ‘I have a great idea which is actually a terrible idea and will cause us pain’ voice. Keith, living in close quarters with Lance these past few weeks, knew it intimately. 

“Hunk,” Lance said, face serious. He dropped a freckled, brown hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “I love you. Don't ever let anyone tell you you have bad ideas.” Never mind the fact no one ever said that, Keith thought. Hunk seemed pleased with the praise, if the way he fiddled with his shirt hem was something to go by. 

It didn’t take long for them to haul the slabs out, Keith and Coran somehow being roped into the process. It hadn’t taken much begging to get Shiro’s permission, something which Keith hadn’t even realised they would need. Of course, it was probably better to ask permission rather than risk Shiro’s ‘disappointed face’. Hauling the metal out onto the sand, Pidge was quick to join them, tossing a hand up as the sun reflected off the metal and straight into their eyes. 

“Uh,” Pidge started, looking between the metal and the paladins. “What exactly are you doing with those? Is that part of the castle repairs? Where did this stuff even come from? … And why is some of it scorched?” They folded their arms, clearly puzzled. 

Lance shrugged, toeing at the sheets himself. “They’re spare parts. Hunk and I stumbled across them a week or so ago.” Keith noticed Lance completely skim over the scorched question and his suspicions deepened. He grinned. “Anyway,” Lance powered on. “We’re stuck on a planet without water, sure, but there’s still plenty of sand. You know what you can do with sand?”

He and Hunk threw their arms around each other’s shoulders, a duet of, “Sand tobogganing!” escaping their mouths. Keith took one look at the towering dunes, another at the idiot and Hunk in front of him, and then finally the metal sheets. What in the holy hell was sand tobogganing? From the look on Allura and Coran’s faces, they seemed to have no idea as well. The idea that he was yet again the only human not to understand chipped at him.

Pidge seemed to have no confusion, however. A look of mild interest on their face, they ran their eyes over Lance as if seeing him in a different light. “Where did you even learn to sand toboggan?” Pidge questioned, sounding impressed with how Lance had come up with something to do. Keith privately wished someone would explain already so he wouldn’t have to ask. He tried to send Coran and Allura a desperate look, but by the concerned glance Shiro tossed him he realised he most likely looked constipated or ill. 

“Um, hello? I’m Lance McClain, certified _beach babe!_ ” 

“We’re not at a beach,” Keith said. “We’re in a desert.” 

“This is gonna heat up really fast. You know that, right?” Pidge interrupted, inspecting the sheets of metal with a frown. Keith wasn't so sure he wanted to join in if there was a sure-fire risk of injury. He said as much and was rewarded with laughter from Lance.

“When has that ever stopped you before, Mullet?” 

Keith’s eyes rolled, displeasure at the nickname evident. Hunk nudged Keith gently and shrugged upon getting Keith’s attention. “Well … He's not wrong,” Hunk said. He tacked on a sheepish, “Sorry?” upon seeing Keith’s betrayed expression. 

“Whatever,” Keith said sourly. “I'm not doing that.” 

Twenty minutes later Keith had the beginnings of a migraine: a mixture of dehydration, the heat, and Lance’s irritating voice harping on. Hunk whizzed down the dune mere meters away, Coran tearing after him with a startled scream. The noise did nothing to lesson Keith’s throbbing head and he grit his teeth unhappily. Lance sighed. 

“It's not that hard, Keith,” he grumbled. “Just lay on the metal and I'll push you off. This stuff is blunt. The worst thing that could happen is you slip off and go rolling down instead of sliding.”

No longer wanting to argue, Keith heaved out a grumble and collapsed onto the sand, settling himself on the metal. It was warm, almost too warm. Lance nudged Keith's legs together with the side of his foot and nodded, pleased.

“Ready?” Lance asked. Before Keith could even answer, Lance had shoved him off. His ‘yeah’ shifted into a startled shout as he hurtled down the steep dune. Allura’s gleeful laughter followed him, Pidge’s encouragement from the ground coming to join it. Keith heard none of it, Lance’s whoop of excitement replaying over and over in his mind.

 

**vi**

Personal conversations were something Keith had always tended to avoid. Fortunately, it was not that difficult, seeing as though he’d rarely had anyone to discuss such things with. Unfortunately, living with only six other people meant it was kind of hard not to get to know each other, and even harder to escape dreaded feelings. Presently, he and Lance rested in the observation deck, Lance seated on the floor, hands moving erratically as he complained about the lack of soda in space. Elsewhere in the castle Keith knew Pidge would be complaining about their sunburn, and Coran would be telling them that regretfully the med-pods were not crafted to heal such insignificant problems. Keith tilted his head away to hide his smile, the castle’s wall a cool presence against his sunburned back. As he tuned Lance out, Keith watched the stars drift by, body relaxing for the first time in days.

Just over two months ago, or so he guessed, they'd been back on Earth. He'd been living in a shack, Shiro presumed dead. Now he knew aliens existed and was well aware of what they looked like dead. Now he was familiar with the slide of his blade against flesh. Now he was intimate with broken bones and a plethora of bruises. It was harrowing, all things considered. 

Two months ago his life had changed. It wasn't all bad, of course. He trained with Shiro, spent time with Allura and Pidge, found a companion in Hunk and questioned Coran about Altea. Furthermore, now that he and Lance got along better, he had someone to pass the time with. Besides, he thought, gazing at a far off cluster of stars, there was always this view if nothing else.

“ – Which I guess I should have seen coming. We only properly met, like, once, and I basically talked you to death before you interrupted. Still,” Lance’s voice, suddenly more controlled, startled Keith from his thoughts. Lance’s cheeriness sounded forced as he spoke, “It would have been nice to be remembered.” Keith inched closer, unsure as to what was happening, but knowing he should probably do something to stop this emotional train-wreck before it entered conversation-station. He settled on the ground beside Lance.

“What are you talking about?” He knew he sounded blunt, and the tension which overcame Lance’s shoulders only gave further proof. Keith twisted so that he was facing Lance, despite the other paladin refusing to look at him. What was Lance going on about now? It would have been nice to be remembered by who and _when?_

“Keith,” Lance said, and it sounded bleak. “Are you serious? You’ve even forgotten _forgetting_ me?” He sounded bewildered, and a touch angry, and Keith felt shame crawl over his heart. He raised his hand, sunburn almost invisible in the dim lights of the room and watched it hover, never quite touching Lance. He dropped it.

“It really … It really hurt, y’know?” Lance, still turned away, gazed out over the observation deck to the starlit space beyond. Keith ran his eyes over Lance’s face, cataloging the splashes of red sunburn. “I mean, I know we didn’t really talk, but I at least expected you to remember my face, if not my name.” Lance would have appeared nonchalant if not for the downward twist of his lips. Keith’s heart sunk with shame as he came to understand the situation. How many times these past few months had Lance introduced himself? How many times had it been in a mockery of the first _and_ second meeting, even if not directly aimed at him? Whilst Keith genuinely didn’t remember the first time, he did the rest. It was about time he reciprocated. So, sucking in a deep breath and chastising himself for taking this long, Keith stuck out a hand.

“Hi,” he said, and hoped the twist of his lips didn’t look as unpleasant as it felt. “I’m Keith Kogane.” He felt ridiculously awkward and surprisingly bare, but he waited regardless, hand outstretched. Lance’s laughter came as no surprise, but for once it didn’t rile Keith up. His cheeks warmed. He liked to think upon reflection of their past months together that he knew Lance better now, knew that he wasn’t being laughed at. So he sat taller, a ghost of a smile taunting the edges of his mouth as he waited patiently for Lance to stop. It didn’t take too long before Lance’s warm hand closed around his own.

“I’m –”

“Lance McClain,” Keith interrupted, and he shuffled closer. “Self-proclaimed ‘tailor’, ‘fighter pilot’, ‘rival’, ‘blue paladin’ and … ‘beach babe’.” Unbidden, this time, a smile slipped over his face. Lance’s eyes were wide, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening. Keith waited patiently once more before tacking on, “And a speechless idiot.” Finally, Lance spluttered out of his trance, an embarrassed red flaring across his cheeks as he started up yet another long-winded rant about how the former titles were all ‘technically’ correct. Keith rested a hand in his lap, the other still secured gently in Lance’s grip, and listened. Maybe, he thought, he could add ‘friend’, to that list.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written ff in a long time, so i'm sorry if my style is boring or kinda formal! thank you for making it this far if you did. i love you! 
> 
> _ahkvveonra_ : just a word i made up that we can pretend is altean. also in its written form it would look different (given that altean's seem to have a symbol-like language). this is just how it sounds.


End file.
